


Nothing Can Happen

by GreyWardenMorgan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Masturbation, One Shot, Oral Sex, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 02:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyWardenMorgan/pseuds/GreyWardenMorgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A recruit to the Templars, Carver learns that Isabela has a new-found obsession with him. The discovery awakens a lust in him, despite his less-than-friendly feelings for the pirate. He decides to confront her, hoping to spur an argument that will break him of his fascination. Little does he know that she can be very, very persuasive when she wants to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Can Happen

Carver strode through Hightown in his full Templar plate. He enjoyed the way the nobles inclined their heads or smiled respectfully when he was in his uniform armor. He was no longer a loathed Fereldan refugee, he was somebody, and little by little he was stepping out from his older sister’s shadow.

He entered the manse and called out for his mother. Bodahn appeared in the doorway. “Good afternoon, messere! I’m afraid Mistress Leandra isn’t here right now, but she should be back shortly. She’s pick up a new dress for a Harvest Day party. Ah, your sister is in the library, if you’d like to visit with her?”

Carver sighed and hesitated. His relationship with Marian was… tenuous. He loved his sister unconditionally, and knew she felt the same about him. But despite that deep-rooted affection, there was a pointed rivalry between them that was impossible to shake. They bickered – a lot – and Carver took issue with Marian’s reckless inclinations. His decision to join the Templars had deepened the divide between them, in large part because Carver couldn’t bring himself to admit his primary reason for doing so: to protect his sister.  
Deciding that Marian would take greater offense if he avoided her, Carver resigned himself to joining her until their mother returned. When he entered the room he was a bit surprised to see her sitting on the floor next to Fenris. When they looked up at him, Carver realized they had been pouring over a large tome.

“What are you doing?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt foolish. It was obvious what they were doing, but thankfully his sister seemed in a good mood and chose to answer amiably.

“Hello, Carver. We’re reading,” Marian responded.

The elf frowned up at him. “Marian has been teaching me to read,” he clarified grudgingly.

Carver couldn’t think of anything to say, so remained silent. Marian’s chairs were all decorative and delicate looking, and he didn’t think they would accommodate his full plate armor. He shifted his weight and leaned against the wall, watching Marian run her finger along a line of text and speak softly to her friend. It quickly became clear that Fenris was not interested in continuing the lesson with an audience, however. “Let us take a break. You can visit with your brother,” he muttered, and rose to pour some wine from the sideboard.

“Is there anything interesting going on around here?” Carver volunteered.

She pursed her lips for a moment, thinking. “No, nothing too exciting. Isabela will be staying here for a week. Mother’s not particularly happy about it. The Hanged Man is enjoying a remarkably large infestation of rats and Isabella is tired of them chewing through her expensive undergarments. She’s making Corff set traps all over the tavern, and she says she’ll return to her room when the rodent population back to its more manageable size.”

“She’ll be disappointed that she’s missed you,” Fenris called over his shoulder with a smirk.

Carver snorted. “Disappointed she missed me? Why would she care that I was here?”

“You’re her new obsession,” his sister said simply. She accepted a wine glass from Fenris as he settled down next to her again.

“Oh, Maker. Please tell me this is a joke,” he groaned.

Marian shook her head. “She likes the way you look in the Templar armor.”

“She likes the way everyone looks, in anything,” Carver countered.

“It might do you some good to spend a night with her.” He looked at Fenris incredulously. He must’ve heard the elf wrong. 

“Fenris is right. You would enjoy it more than you think,” Marian offered. “I find her brand of depravity is wholly underrated.”

This was too much. “You did not sleep with her,” Carver accused.

“Oh, yes I did. It was… What?” She caught his expression. “Fenris did, too.” She pointed at him defensively and Fenris shrugged in reply.

Carver opened and closed his mouth several times, aghast. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. I’ve sworn vows, I can’t… and doesn’t she… have…” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Diseases?”

Marian waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing that Anders can’t fix. It’s worth it, trust me. She’s ungodly talented with her tongue. And those breasts?” She whistled. “She does this thing where…”

Carver put his hands against his ears like a child trying to block out an unpleasant noise. “Stop it. I’m not listening to this.” Marian rolled her eyes and turned back to her pupil. 

Carver marched through a side door and out into the courtyard. It was a small sheltered spot, complete with stone benches and several flowering bushes. Isabela, what a ridiculous notion, he thought. He sat down on a bench and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands. Unbidden, images of the pirate sprang into his mind – her full lips, her sultry eyes, the sway in her hips when she walked… _Whoa, whoa! What am I doing? ___

“Carver?”

Mother leaned through the doorway, beckoning him inside. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself before smiling and following her voice.

******

For the last four nights, Carver had been plagued by dreams about Isabela. He knew he should feel ashamed of his weakness, particularly when the object of his desire was a tart like her. He frankly detested the woman but found himself unable to deny her physical appeals. His mind conceived all kinds of scenarios; finding her spread wantonly across her bed in The Hanged Man, or having her shove him against a wall in the Templar Hall to sink to her knees in front of him. 

He woke abruptly, flushed and sweaty and painfully hard. He pulled his shirt over his head roughly and looked around the room. As a recruit, he hadn’t yet earned the luxury of his own sparse quarters and instead shared the barracks with seven other men. Working to be as quiet as possible, he freed his erection from his trousers and stroked himself to thoughts of Isabela straddling him, riding him up and down. Carver choked back a moan as he neared completion. He imagined her breasts in his face, supple nipples brushing his tongue… he spilled his release onto his stomach and dropped his head back against the pillow, panting. 

He waited for his body to calm, his arousal to abate in the wake of his climax. He waited, and waited. The steady, throbbing ache of desire persisted despite all his best efforts. Frustrated, he cleaned up his stomach with his shirt and dropped it into the chest at the head of his cot. He stared up at the ceiling and let out a long breath through his nose. There was nothing for it – he needed to speak with Isabela, confront her about her interest in him. It’ll dissolve into a fight, he reasoned, and I’ll remember what an intolerable bitch she is. That should be the end of all this… nonsense.

He rolled onto his side and struggled to get a little more sleep before sunrise.

******

Carver had intended to go to Marian’s early in the day, after his morning training. He marched through the Gallows without paying attention, trying to figure out what he was going to say. Suddenly he heard his name called out behind him and he turned to find Knight Captain Cullen approaching.

“Recruit, where are you heading off to?” Cullen asked. The Templars were keeping the recruits on a tight leash, thanks to Knight Commander Meredith’s suspicions (or delusions, depending on who you asked) about dissention and mage sympathies.

“I’m making a visit to my sister, Knight Captain.” He bristled inwardly at the hitch in Cullen’s expression at the mention of Marian. Mage or no, Carver noticed the way Cullen eyed his sister appreciatively when she made an appearance at the Gallows. “Do you require my presence elsewhere?”

“Yes, we’re sending a contingent through Darktown this afternoon. There have been reports of an underground mage collective. You could be quite helpful, given your knowledge of the tunnels and passages from your days as a refugee.” He watched Carver’s face closely. Some within the order questioned his loyalty because of his sister and her affiliations – namely, Anders. While expected, it still angered him… in part because of his concern that they were accurate in their assumptions.

Carver bowed slightly at the waist. “I would be honored to assist, Knight Captain.” The two men made their way back to Templar Hall, with Carver vowing to make it to Marian’s before nightfall.

******

He did eventually arrive at the manse, but not until after sundown. He was tired and irritated after a long day in the choking filth of Darktown. No pockets of rogue mages had been discovered, even with a thorough search of every alley and abandoned mine shaft they could find. One lukewarm meal and a quick bath later, he was making his way to his sister’s estate. He’d decided on plain clothes, not wanting to provide Isabela with any more fuel by showing up in his armor. Only upon arriving did he realize he hadn’t prepared anything to say. He hesitated at the door, hand awkwardly suspended to knock, when it swung open and he came face to face with the cause of his sleepless nights.

Isabela eyed him and licked her lips. “Well, well, well. Good evening, Pup.”

Carver’s eyebrows knitted together in a frown. “Don’t call me that!” he snapped.

She clucked her tongue at him. “Temper, temper. Did we have a bad day today, chasing men in skirts all over Kirkwall?” She propped a hand on her hip and leaned against the door. Her body was backlit from the fire roaring in the great room, silhouetting her curves in a way that made Carver’s mouth go dry. In an effort to keep from leering, he pushed past her and stalked inside.

“Where in the hell is everyone?” he called out as he entered the dark house. Light was spilling through a doorway down the hall, presumably Isabela’s room, but the rest of the manse was silent.

“I’m the only one here,” she murmured directly into his ear. Carver spun around, startled and angry. Isabela was close enough that he could feel her excited exhale on his throat when he grabbed her arm.

“Don’t do that,” he growled.

She feigned a pout. “Don’t call me Pup, don’t sneak up behind me, whine, whine, whine.” She leaned forward so her face was only a few inches from his. “Next you’ll tell me to stop thinking about you every night when I’m in bed.” He couldn’t help but watch her mouth form the words of that last sentence and his breath caught ever so slightly. He released her arm and took a small step back, praying she hadn’t noticed.

“Where is everyone?” he repeated slowly.

“They’re at the Harvest Day celebration at the Viscount’s Keep. Didn’t you hear all the noise when you were outside?”

“No, I was… I wasn’t paying attention. Why aren’t you there?”

Isabela tossed her head back and laughed. “I’m not important enough to warrant an invitation. Leandra went alone, and Hawke took Fenris as a date. Orana is there to assist with the cooking, and Bodahn is helping with the serving. Sandal is… I don’t know where Sandal is. Probably wandering around the Keep, making people uncomfortable.”

Carver sat on the edge of his sister’s writing desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “When will they be back?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. It could be hours yet.” She began to advance on him slowly. “It would be a shame for you to waste a trip, though. You should come into my room and wait for her.”

“I didn’t come here to talk to her, I came here to talk to you,” he said firmly.

Isabela raised her eyebrows. “Oh, really?” She was standing right in front of him now, the front of her thighs against his knees. Carver had always been long of leg and even sitting as he was, he remained a bit taller than her. She braced her hands on either side of the desk, deliberately leaning into him and providing a full few of her ample cleavage. He tore his eyes away to look into her face.

“You’ve been telling people about your… fascination with me.” Why did he sound so throaty? He was trying to be angry, but she was making it very difficult.

“Mmm.” That was all the reply he received.

“I want you to stop.”

“Do you? You’re sure about that? Because it seems like you might actually like it.” She moved practiced hands to his knees, running them up to the juncture of his legs to rest on his growing erection. She gave him a light squeeze through his trousers.

Carver yelped and jumped up from the desk. He took three quick strides across the room, turning on his heel to look back at her. Isabella was now occupying his spot on the desk and watching him with dark eyes. She gently plucked at the laces of her corset, loosening the loops one by one. He held up his hands, palms out. “Isabela, no. Don’t do that. I came here to tell you that nothing can happen between us.”

She winked and nodded, and then pulled the corset up over her head. She dropped it on the floor in front of her. “Right. Nothing can happen.” She pushed the thin white fabric of her tunic off one shoulder, then the other, and began to shimmy it down.

“You were supposed to get mad,” he said weakly.

“Oh, yes, I’m furious,” she purred. The tunic snugged over the fullest part of her chest and she pulled it down more forcibly. Her breasts sprang free in a sudden flourish and she let out a grateful moan at being liberated from the clothing. They were divinely big, deeply tanned and pointed with large, dusky nipples. Before the Blight, Carver had enjoyed his fair share of farm girls in Fereldan – but Maker, none of them had breasts like that. His heart was pounding.

He worried his bottom lip with his teeth during a moment of hesitation. His outrage at her for goading him on warred with his brazen lust. As he battled with his indecision, he watched Isabela slip a finger into her mouth, wet it with her tongue and use it to trace a glistening path around one erect nipple. He cursed loudly as the last vestiges of his restraint crumbled. The look on his face as he approached her must have been terrible, because she shrank away slightly when he came to loom over her. Grabbing her chin, he pressed a crushing kiss to her mouth, forcing his tongue past her lips. He felt a thrill of satisfaction when she moaned in response.

He broke the kiss abruptly. “We’re going to your room. Marian will not see this. Marian will never, ever know of this. No one will ever know of this. Do you understand?” He wondered if his aggressive tone would frighten her, but instead it seemed to spur her on and she nodded vigorously. She dropped from the desk and grabbed his hand to lead him down the hall. He followed her into the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

Carver permitted Isabela to push him against the adjacent wall and pull his shirt over his head. She covered his chest and the flat plane of his stomach with kisses and licks, scoring his arms and shoulders gently with her nails. He closed his eyes and twisted his fingers into her hair to guide her down. Taking his hint, she quickly unlaced his trousers, yanking them down his hips along with his smallclothes. Her progress faltered and he looked down to see her staring in amazement at his cock.

“What?” he asked through gritted teeth, frustrated at the delay.

“Carver, I… that thing is… _huge _. I’ve never…”__

He let out a bark of dark laughter. “I find that hard to believe.”

“No, I mean it.” She ran an experimental fingertip down his length, causing him to shudder. Watching his face intently, she darted out her tongue to lap at the head. His knees buckled and he groaned. He heard her laugh softly to herself. “This is going to be very, very fun.”

“Get on with it, then.” His words were demanding but his tone was pleading. 

She rolled her eyes at him but obeyed. Isabela licked her lips and pressed them to the tip of his cock, slowly parting them to slide the head into her warm, wet mouth. Carver dropped his head back against the wall and screwed up his eyes. She worked him up and down with her hands as she rolled her tongue over what length of him she could fit in her mouth. Occasionally she would sit back on her heels and stroke him faster, rubbing her thumb around the sensitive underside of his tip. Just before the sensation became too intense, she would lean forward again and take his overheated flesh into her mouth once more. The farm girls couldn’t do anything like this, he thought through a haze of lust.

Carver suddenly rocked his hips back, pulling himself from her lips with a soft pop. Unable to catch his breath, he motioned for her to stand. She hooked her thumbs over her smallclothes and worked them down her legs as she rose before him. They were black, lacy, hardly enough to cover her at all – just what Carver would expect her to wear. The hem of her tunic was bunched up, now covering nothing but her narrow waist. He stared at the round, bronze curve of her hips and the small mass of dark curls atop the joining of her thighs.

Grabbing her by the arm, he spun to hold her against the wall. She hooked a leg around his waist, urging him on with murmured promises of pleasure. He guided his cock to her opening and thrust into her with one hard push, hilting himself entirely. Isabela cried out sharply and dug her nails into his back. He held there for a moment, allowing her to acclimate to his size. She was still grasping him tightly, her head pressed hard against his shoulder.

“Are you alright?” He felt a sudden stab of guilt at driving into her so quickly.

She drew several deep breaths before leaning back to look up at him. Her golden eyes stared into his blue ones for several seconds. “More…” she panted.

Laboring against his frenzied excitement, he pumped in and out of her with languid strokes. She began to relax and was soon rolling her hips in time with his. She ran her tongue along the shell of his ear, then kissed and nipped at his throat. Her breasts rubbed up and down against his chest with each thrust. Suddenly he felt her grip tighten on the back of his neck and her back arch out from the wall.

“Faster… faster,” she begged him.

Carver pulled back and slammed into her, the sound of their slapping flesh ringing in his ears. Her sex was tightening around him, drawing him in deeper each time he buried himself within. He picked up her other leg and opened her hips further, holding her against the wall with just the strength of his powerful arms. He was pounding into her with reckless abandon now and she was moaning as loudly as he’d ever heard a woman moan, tensing and contracting with orgasm. At all once the coiled tension in his groin exploded and he emptied himself inside of her with erratic thrusts. When the climax finally receded, he eased out of her and dropped her legs. He braced his hands on the wall on either side of her shoulders, panting and shuddering. Eventually his head stopped swimming and his heart slowed to a more normal pace. He staggered over to her bed and flopped down awkwardly.

Isabela crossed the room and poured water into a ceramic basin. Wetting a washcloth, she quickly cleaned herself. She rinsed it, returned to Carver’s side and offered it to him. He mumbled something that sounded vaguely appreciative and she laughed, turning to gather up their clothing as he attended to washing.

Carver dressed quickly while Isabela curled up under the blanket on her bed. She already seemed asleep when he turned to look at her anxiously. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

She cracked an eye at him. “I know, I know. One time deal, don’t tell anyone, it was all a mistake.” She yawned and rolled over. “Just promise me that you'll come find me if you're ever interested in making another mistake.”

Carver couldn’t help but smile. He opened her door and made his way down the hallway silently. He was nearly certain the house was still empty, but didn’t want to take any chances. He crept through the great room and entrance hall, satisfied that his presence was undetected and his secret safe. He slipped out the front door and made his way back to the barracks, happier than he’d been in a long time.

Marian had watched him sneak through the manse from the top of the stairs. He didn’t appear to notice her there, so she remained still and let him pass uninterrupted. When she heard the front door close, she returned to her room, smiling and shaking her head. She shut the door behind her as Fenris was changing for bed. He noticed her expression and cocked his head, quizzical. “You’ll never guess what I just saw,” she began.


End file.
